A few days later Xander finally allowed Willow to harass him into accepting her visit.  His Sunnydale girls arrived and showered him with affection of a variety he didn’t know he needed until he was inundated with it: the affection that came with a history.

There were certain things his new friends would never do, and other things they wouldn’t understand the significance of.  So Xander recognised as he lay in bed surrounded by a pile of female bodies, all silently grinning at the sound of William the Bloody downstairs, learning to play schmaltzy old songs on the piano for his darling.

Members of the new family had watched in fascination as Spike used Xander as his canvas, choosing a limb and filling the skin with intricate ink designs, but none of them would retrieve paints from the studio and follow Spike’s progress, turning Xander’s skin into a riot of colour.

Willow would wake early and come to the master bedroom, prising the two men apart so she could crawl onto the bed between them and cuddle up to her oldest friend.  Spike had wondered if the familiarity and attention would lure Xander back to the Hellmouth until he heard a whispered exchange one morning:

“Xander…do you think you’ll ever come home?”

“I am home, Willow.  I’ve found my home.”

Only Dawn would, without consent or comment, turn back the bedclothes and paint Xander’s toenails Very Berry and add a topcoat of glitter.

Jake was the first to show worrying signs of falling into the collective Scoobyness, happily elbowing his way to Xander’s side for a while each evening with files and various bits and pieces from work.  Willow and Dawn jostled and made space and re-settled, Buffy tended to vacate her patch of mattress but only went as far as a chair she brought to Xander’s free side: endearingly, unnecessarily protective.

…

“Nice,” Xander groaned.

“Small nice or big nice?”

“Uh…”

“Well, the small nice would be…this.”

Spike continued his massage of Xander’s neck and shoulders.

“Nice.”

“The big nice would be having the girls here.”

“Nice.”

“Eloquent, aren’t you?

“Mmm.”

“Have I melted your brain, love?”

“Oh, yeah,” Xander murmured and Spike leant down to lay kisses between his shoulder blades.

“Good to see them, I know, but…  I love the nights.  Now.  Our time.”

“Oh, yeah.”

A few minutes more nuzzling and Spike sat back.

“Have to turn you over.  Ready?”

“No.”

“Come on then, grit your teeth.”

“Okay?” Spike checked.

“If you keep touching me.”  Spike picked up the nearest arm and began the massage all over again, grinning at Xander’s contented sigh.  “Angel tell you about his plans?” Xander asked with a yawn.  “Y’know, about Buffy?”

“He asked me what I thought, yes.”

“What did you say?”

“I just laughed.”

“You think it’s not going to work?”

“No, it’ll work, I just wanted to get him all unsettled.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Oh.  Okay.  So…”

“It’s a good idea.  I know Bit’d move to LA in a heartbeat.”

“But she has this guy now, apparently.”

“Not set in concrete, is he?  He thinks enough of her he’ll make the move too.  If not, plenty more where he came from.”

“You think…you think if they went to LA we could persuade Willow to move closer to us?”

“Here’s a novel thought: why don’t you ask her?”

“Because she might say no.”

“She might say yes.”

“Will you ask her?”

“No.  It’d mean more coming from you.”

“I…  No, I won’t.  Not yet.  Wait until the Buffy in LA thing is decided.  We won’t mention it, any of it, I don’t know if we’re even supposed to know.”

“Angel told both of us.”

“Yeah, but that’s a guy thing.  Luscious-velvety-secret may be the girl thing and if we get in the way of that…”

“Messy.”

“Messy.”

Xander fell silent and Spike massaged.

“You want Red here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Much?”

“Big much.”

Spike nodded thoughtfully.

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

…

Spike kept a close eye on the interaction between the friends, happy that Willow and Dawn were relaxed and comfortable with a Xander who was, especially on his home ground, very different to the one they used to know.  He understood the difficulties.  This Xander was his own man: a man who unquestionably loved them but no longer needed them to distract him from an unhappy home life, loneliness and a multitude of insecurities.  He was secure now, and it gave him confidence that could be both appealing and intimidating because of the strength of his character.  There was a new family to cope with, people who understood and loved Xander, weren’t afraid to show it, and connected with him on a level that was lost to the old family.  He was shacked up with a possessive, over-protective vampire who had also changed dramatically.  Xander had lost much of the humour and naïve charm that had defined their friend, and the situation he was in made him sharp and fractious at times.  But Willow and Dawn were determined to recognise plenty of the old Xander in this new man, and if anything surprised or disappointed them they made a concerted effort to accept or compromise.

Buffy, on the other hand, wanted her Xander, the Xander she still missed and longed for the chance to make friends with again.  In fairness to her she knew she had problems, but she was trying too hard to be lively and fun and not affected by their past troubles.  The harder Buffy worked at her version of putting things to right, the tenser Xander became.  And the tenser Xander became, the harder Buffy worked.  That was when she was most likely to say the wrong thing and the atmosphere would become impossible to survive in.  The simplest observation about Spike – something that would have made Xander laugh had it come from Willow or Dawn – would be enough to have him irrationally seething in his debatably adorable, over-defensive and highly prejudiced way.  Eventually Xander would call for Spike and have everyone (because he wouldn’t be seen to be discriminating) herded away from him so he could ‘rest’.

Spike found it interesting that both Buffy and Angel were wary and/or jealous of the new family; she resented their perceived intrusion as much as his grand-sire had, and was just as lousy at concealing it.  Not that he would openly admit it, but Spike truly commiserated with them, remembering how he’d felt when Xander had abandoned him, how wretched it had been to feel deserted.  How devastating it felt to be left behind in the face of change.  Buffy and Angel had both suffered enough to fear change, and it was only recently that Spike had learnt that it didn’t need to be painful.  But despite the self-preserving caution, Buffy tried to adjust for Xander (who, Spike acknowledged, didn’t always deserve it because he was a pig-headed git) and just as Angel had found, it was impossible to dislike the family: Patrick and his acolytes whittled away at her reserve, and it was a joy to watch her gradually be won over and become happier for it.

…

At the first real opportunity to talk privately, Spike took Willow to his studio and closed the door.

“Did you bring it?” he asked urgently as he turned to her.

“I brought everything I could think of.  I didn’t know what kind of ward you wanted so…”

“Whatever’s strongest, whatever will protect this house, protect Xander.”

Willow nodded.

“I can do that.”

“You’re okay doing this?  With the…y’know?”

“The ‘y’know’ is fine.  The ‘y’know’ has been fine for years.  I do use magic, I just have to humour the mojo-police: they’re wary of me using it when the circumstances are too…personal.  Like when Xander was first hurt.  Buffy and Angel wouldn’t have trusted me then because it would have been too easy to lose myself.  But this: ward, no problem.”  Willow curiously studied Spike’s relief.  “Why don’t you want Xander to know?”

“Because if he thinks he needs protecting, firstly he’ll overreact to the power of n, secondly he’ll feel vulnerable.  No man as strong as Xander should be made to feel vulnerable.”  Willow thought about that, felt great compassion for Spike because he knew too well what he was talking about, and nodded again.  “If he finds out we tell him it’s for my benefit.  You tell the others?”

“You asked me not to.”

“Right.  You tell the others?”

“No, I did not!”

“Good.”

“Although I don’t see what harm…”  Glare.  “I didn’t tell them a thing!”

“We’ll do it tonight then?  When they’re all asleep.”

…

Two in the morning, Spike disabled the alarm and he and Willow sneaked out onto the drive.

“Is this going to take long?”

“It shouldn’t.  I’m going to encircle the house for one ward, mark out the grounds for another, then bind…  That’s strange.”

“What?”

“Look at this.”

Spike came to Willow’s side and watched as she took a small handful of warding compound and began to sprinkle it; the powder disintegrated into sparks before it could hit the ground.  They exchanged a suitably mystified look.

“Try somewhere else,” Spike suggested, and they went a few feet to their left to experiment.  Same result.  “You’ve buggered this up,” Spike hissed, prodding a finger into the dust.  “What’s in here?  Bicarb and fag ash?”

“It’s a pretty potent mixture, Spike, don’t…!”

Willow snatched the container back from the disgruntled vampire and next they tried the rear of the house.

“Say some of the spell, see what happens.”

Patently unconvinced, Willow went along with Spike’s suggestion, and they both leapt in astonishment as the powder not only sparked but flared brightly, flames rushing up Willow’s arm.  A rapid check and Willow was unmarked but unwilling to proceed.

“There’s something else I want to try, it’s non-intrusive so…” she told Spike, handing over the spell components and spreading out her arms.  A few muttered words later and they gazed slack-jawed as the entire house and grounds glowed with a silvery-blue light.

“What the fuck is that?” Spike demanded in an alarmed whisper as the light dispersed into the night’s darkness.

“There’s already a ward.  Extremely powerful.  You and Xander have always been safe inside the house and in the gardens.  I doubt if anyone with evil intent could even get past the front gate.”

“Where did it come from?”

“If you mean who placed it, there’s no way of telling.  It’s designed to protect itself and defy magical intervention.  But that’s good – not that I can’t tell who created it, but that someone wanted to keep you both safe.  Angel tried to tell me he felt something here but I didn’t listen; I’ll have to call him and…  I’d like to try a disclosure spell inside the house, I’m not sure if it would work, but…”

Tuning Willow out, Spike stared off into the dark recesses of the garden, mind racing.  Patrick, Spike decided.  He had this done for us and…  Why didn’t he tell us?  I’ve heard some of the bloody weird conversations he’s had with Xander and he must have known he could tell us.  Xander rattles on about spooks and demons, making jokes about the end of the world, but despite the jokes it’s obvious that Xander believes, so why Patrick can’t say he’s having mojo worked to protect us?  Maybe it’s not Patrick?  Ah, stroll on.  Definitely Patrick.

“We don’t tell Xander,” Spike interrupted the enthusiastic stream of proposals emerging from Willow.

“But that means I can’t work in the house.”

“Then you won’t work in the house.  Simple.”

Willow drew breath to argue but at the sight of Spike’s determination she deflated.

“Nothing in the house,” she agreed.

“There is something you can do for me, though.”

“Oh, yes, there’s always something I can do for you, Mr My Way or No Way.”

Spike grinned at that: he hadn’t heard it for a very long time.

“Intrigue?  A little spying?” he suggested temptingly.  “Want to play my Mata Hari?”

“I can be Mata Hari,” Willow keenly agreed.  “But no dancing, I don’t dance, not that kind of dancing anyway, and do I have to seduce someone?  It’s been a while but I think I may still have it in me.”

“No seduction.”

“No seduction?” Willow replied, evidently disappointed.

Spike allowed himself to be distracted.

“Hello, who did you have in mind?”

“No-one.”

“No-one?  Right.  Now, who do I think you’d like to seduce,” he said thoughtfully.  “Going on past squeezes…”

“I was getting into character.  Mata Hari,” Willow insisted.

“Tricky.  Can’t narrow it down.  It’s not like you ever discriminated.”

“Spike!”

“I meant that in a good way,” he assured.  “Equal opportunities shagger.  Any gender, any colour, any size, shape or form, supernatural or demonic tendencies not an issue.  Just so long as they touched everything but the heart.”

“I’m going to…” she raised a threatening hand.

“You can’t,” Spike reminded her.  “We’ve apparently had the anti-mojo mojo-man in.”

Willow scowled and turned the conversation around.

“Mata Hari.”

“I want you to chat up Patrick…  No, I want you to chat up Beth.  Get in with Beth and see if there’s anything we ought to know.”

“I like Beth.  You think there’s something wrong with Beth?”

Spike thoughtfully shook his head.

“Wrong, no.  Different…maybe.”

“Different,” Willow nodded seriously before starting a deceptively youthful bounce back to the house.

Spike picked up the container of ward compound, took a fistful and scattered it, watching the light show with a bemused smile.

It suddenly occurred to Spike what he’d been told, and he laughed quietly to himself as it sank in: he’d always been safe here.  All those days when he was living in fear of the soldiers, weeping, screaming, cowering in nooks and crannies at the imagined sounds of the house being infiltrated by his torturers.  He shook his head and shared the news with William, who evidently wanted to say ‘I told you so’ but was prevented from doing so by his innate niceness.  He did, however, take the opportunity to remind Spike that he should be with Xander, tending, protecting, or just plain worshipping the man.

A last, slow look around the garden, then Spike picked up the container of ward compound, taking a fistful and scattering it, watching the light show and wondering how much stranger this existence was bound to get.

…

Xander was getting increasingly restless.  Before the attack he’d been very active and the lack of exercise was as hard on him mentally as it was physically; having his friends around made it still more frustrating.  He wanted to be up with them, showing off the house and gardens, taking them out and sharing his favourite places.  The friends started considering first step solutions, no-one fooling themselves that Xander’s body was up to much exertion; Spike walked from a bedroom thick with intensive thinking, and came back to one filled with enthusiastic gabble.

“I was just saying to Xander, he should try the pool.  Exercise without strain, isn’t that the idea?”

Spike considered Dawn’s suggestion, quelled the knee-jerk reaction that insisted Xander stay safely in bed for the remainder of his natural existence.  He looked a question at Xander, who shrugged.

“Couldn’t hurt.  You’d be there,” emerged automatically, Xander’s trust in Spike outweighing any other consideration.

“Yeah.  Nice one, Nibblet.  Got anything to wear, Xan?”  Thought and a shake of the head; he was always naked in their pool.  “Shopping then.”  Spike turned back to Dawn.  “Go and buy him something.”

“Thong?” Dawn asked Xander with a cheeky grin.

“Something that makes him less tempting to the both of us,” Spike insisted.  “What?” he demanded as Xander sighed.  “You’ll be the one telling me to behave when I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“In the pool?” Buffy asked with a poorly-covered grimace.

“Prime shagging location, the pool.”

“Spike…” Xander protested to no avail.

“I can’t help making connections.  In here…”  Spike tapped his temple.  “…it’s pool, Xander: sex.”

“Spike!”

“But it’s the same everywhere,” the vampire mused.  “Pool: sex.  Conservatory: sex.  Living room: sex.  Studio: sex.  Specifically: chaise longue…”  His eyes met Xander’s and for a moment sparks literally crackled in the air between them.  “…and the less said the better if I want that again.  Hallway: sex.  Kitchen…”  A barrage of objections to that one.  “What?  You’d think I never cleaned in there.  Bloody spotless, you could eat your food off the floor.  Or you could eat your boyfriend...”  Spike broke off in laughter at the reactions, enjoying the easy targets.

“I think it’s take-out tonight,” Buffy suggested.

“Shall we go?” Willow suggested.  “Buy swimsuits, not think about what I’m really not thinking about.”

“Buy Spike something to wear in the pool,” Xander told them.

“I don’t…”

“Yes, you do.  You really do.”

“I do?”

Xander waggled his hands.

“What can I say?  It’s contagious.”

…

That afternoon.  Spike cocked an ear and homed in on the laughter-filled voices coming from the direction of the pool as he helped Xander out of bed and into the Day-Glo lime Bermuda shorts that Dawn had handed over with a blazing smile.  He was already wearing something similar in Day-Glo orange and the two men looked each other up and down and shared a smile of mutual sympathy before breaking into giggles.

“You know I’m going to thump her when I get this chip out?”

“I’ll hold your coat.”

Just outside the pool room door Xander had Spike set him down.  He was beyond being too proud to let Spike carry him when they were alone, but in front of others it made him feel hugely uncomfortable.  So, as the women obeyed Spike’s orders and very deliberately ignored them, they took a slow walk to the shallow end of the pool and Spike sat Xander down on the edge to catch his breath.  Spike slid into the water and stood in front of Xander, running his hands up the legs of his shorts and caressing his thighs.

“You okay?”

“I’m okay.  Can’t believe I got so tired just walking from the door.”

“Want me to take you back up?”

Xander shook his head.

“Get me in.  Sad man with no life is looking forward to this.”

Spike did as he was asked, feeling Xander tense with insecurity as the water buffeted his unsteady body.

“Relax,” Spike told him privately.  “I’m not going to let you go and the girls’ll be keeping out of the way.”  Spike turned Xander and persuaded him to lay back against him, threading his arms beneath Xander’s and linking his fingers across Xander’s chest.  Now Xander did relax, allowing Spike and the water to take his weight, paddling with arms and legs but careful not to exert himself.  “Nice?” Spike asked.

“Can we do this every day?”

“Unless you’re planning on being Olympic standard by the end of the month.”

“Taking it easy,” Xander pointed out.

“You keep taking it easy and we’ll see.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“If you’re good…”

“Yes, Mom.”

“…and do as you’re told…”

“Yes, Mom.”

“…and don’t answer me back…”

“Yes—  Didn’t say a word.”

At the far side of the pool Spike stood Xander up, making sure he had a firm hold on the pool rim before starting a slow massage over his shoulders and back, glad there was no objection when hands slid lower ostensibly to work on thigh and calf muscles but lingering on shapely buttocks.  Spike disappeared under the water for a while and when he re-emerged he pressed against Xander, supporting him as he massaged his arms.  Xander laid back against him, turning his head slightly so that Spike’s mouth met his ear, knowing he’d get words of encouragement from the vampire, needing them to see him through the terrible sense of vulnerability.  Spike wrapped an arm around his waist, held the pool rim with the free hand.

“Relax, love.  I’ve got you.”

“I don’t feel like I’m getting better,” Xander confided under his breath.  “I’m so weak.”

“You couldn’t have done this much a few days ago so, yes, you are getting better.  You want too much too fast; you have to get used to this taking forever because it’ll be months before you’re back to how you were.”

“You’ll be here?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Okay.  Being patient.  Remind me to be patient.”

“Like that’ll work.”

Spike kissed the nape of Xander’s neck and linked his arms around his chest for a second time, manoeuvring him back across the pool.  More massage, and now the women gravitated toward them, only kept at a distance by Spike’s glaring and growling.

“Get that,” Xander suddenly said.

“What?” Spike asked.  He deliberately didn’t react to Xander knowing the phone was about to ring, and guessed pretty easily that it had to be Patrick on the other end.

“You okay with me leaving you for a few minutes?”

“Get the phone.”

Spike reluctantly left Xander’s side, pointedly looking in Buffy’s direction and getting a brief nod in return.  Vampire out of the way and the women moved in, making small talk despite knowing Xander’s attention left the pool room with Spike.  He didn’t notice Buffy whispering to Willow and Dawn to move away, didn’t really notice Buffy at all until she put a hand on his trembling arm.

“You want to get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Xander replied anxiously as the shaking increased.

“I’ll lift you out?”

“No, get Spike.”

“I can…”

“No, I want Spike!”

“Don’t you feel safe with me?”

“Not like I feel with him, no.”

Buffy looked like she’d been hit multi-demon hard.

“Oh.  Oh, okay.”  Hurt and disappointed, she turned her back on Xander as tears threatened.  “I’ll fetch him.”

“Thanks.  Sorry.  Thanks.”

Buffy did as she was asked, retrieved Spike, and watched with sadness and frustration as Xander let himself be helped from the pool, unconcerned about appearances now as Spike lifted him and took him away.  Upstairs, Spike took Xander into the shower, holding him until the shaking stopped then carefully lowering him to his feet and turning on the water.

“What happened, love?”

“I panicked.  No you and I panicked.”

“The girls were there.”

“You weren’t.”

Spike peeled their shorts off and went about soaping Xander, one hand always steadying while the other swept, businesslike, over skin he wanted to kiss every inch of.  Try that and Xander would be in a heap on the floor in seconds.  But it didn’t stop Xander’s hand wandering to stroke Spike’s inevitable erection whenever it was within reach.  Eventually Spike simply leant into his partner and, covering Xander’s hand with his own, fucked their fists, coming quickly as he suckled and marked Xander’s neck, foggily remembering not to let the pair of them slide down the wall.

Kisses, gentle drying, more kisses in more places, and Spike put Xander to bed.  Yet more kisses and Xander was asleep.  Spike pulled on his robe and sat with him for a while, indulging in a few if onlys and feeling bad (yet again) about leaving Xander alone for those weeks, no longer understanding why he had.  If it had been a bid to regain some self-respect, the price was way too high and he wouldn’t be walking that particular path again.  A look at the clock told him it was time to start thinking about putting food into his love to shock- absorb the drugs: it made him happier, the feeling that he was getting something right, doing his duty, caring for his claimant.  He had a lot of making up to do.

Willow and Dawn passed him on the stairs.

“Hmm…  This vampire is brought to you by the colour purple…” Dawn grinned.

Spike gave them the bowman’s salute in passing.

“…and the letter V,” Willow concluded.

Spike found Buffy in the kitchen and was fairly sure she was waiting for him, but he paid little attention to her and simply got on with his preparations, giving her space and knowing that she’d talk when she was ready.

“You do your own shopping?” she asked, sounding one-hundred-percent like someone looking for a way into a conversation.

“I order over the internet, they deliver, works fine.  If I’m stuck for anything I give Xander a call and he gets it on the way home.”

“Is that because you don’t like to go out or…”

“I can’t believe you’re seriously interested in my domestic arrangements, so what…”  He looked at her and away, then did a double-take and had a better look.  That was one miserable slayer.  “What’s wrong?”  Brief shake of the head.  “Come on, what did he say?”

Pause.  Buffy deflated a little more.

“I offered to get him out of the pool and he freaked.”

“There’s manly pride for you.”

“If I’d been anyone else…”

“Oh, pack it in.  Or would you like me to find something you can flail yourself with?”

“He said he didn’t feel safe with me.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What else did he say?”

Buffy hesitated.

“The way he does with you.  He doesn’t feel safe with me the way he does with you.”

“And you’re so desperate to feel sorry for yourself you’re going to misconstrue that?”

“I’m not…”

“Yes.  You are.”

“He doesn’t feel safe with me,” she repeated doggedly.

“As safe.  Of course he feels safer with me, I’m the one who’s been here looking after him, I know how to move him without it hurting too much.  He may look better than you expected but he’s fragile right now.  I know it makes all your slayer sensibilities jangle, but it’s this vampire that he loves and trusts most.  And he’s right to.”  Buffy paced across the room and back several times.  “What do you want, Buffy?” Spike demanded impatiently.

“Xander,” Buffy announced, unable to mask her sorrow.  “I want Xander, the old Xander, because now, with this version…”  She leant against the wall and let out a tired sigh.  “I don’t know what to do.  I can see him being edgy and making an effort with me and that makes me edgy and I overcompensate and in the end we can’t bear each other’s company.  He was one of my best friends and now he’s never going to stop hating me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.  He thinks the world of you.”

“That’s impossible.”

“If he didn’t, none of the past would matter, it wouldn’t upset him so much.  What went wrong between the two of you wouldn’t have gone wrong if he hadn’t felt so betrayed.”

“Gee, thanks, needed to hear that.  When do we get to the part where you make me feel better?”

The joke fell flat; Spike fixed her with a cool look.

“We don’t.  I can’t make you feel better and, frankly, I don’t want to.  Xander’s not blameless but you’ve got to appreciate my bias.  I’d tell the pair of you to talk it over but he’s not strong enough for what it’d develop into.  So, I’ll tell you what you do.  You calm down, and you carry on playing best friends and if you keep at it long enough you’ll eventually forget where the playing stopped and the being started.  All I know is that if you fuck up and hurt him again it’ll be the end.”

“Am I supposed to feel threatened by that?”

“Up to you,” Spike smiled.  “But I wouldn’t want to be the one explaining to Dawn and Willow why they’re never going to see Xander again.”

“You think you could…”

“I know I could.”

They glared at one another for a long moment.  Then caved pretty much simultaneously.

“Yes, you could,” Buffy conceded.  “But there will be no fucking up, and no hurting Xander.”

“I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.”  Spike laughed at himself and crossed to the refrigerator to look for dinner.  “It’s just what we do.  Round and round in bleedin’ circles.”  He opened the door and leant against the edge as he studied the contents.  “Going to make Xander something viciously unhealthy.  ‘Bout as dangerous as I get nowadays.”

He jumped as he felt Buffy’s hands on his back: not moving, just…connecting.

“Did it happen?” she whispered.  “I get so confused.  That was a bad time.”

Spike turned and took her hands, held them within his own, away from his body.

“It happened.  Just wasn’t real.”

Buffy studied him with a frown; inside her head she tried to pick through their magically-skewed past.  Abruptly she realised he wasn’t comfortable with her so close, and she backed off.

“I took it out on you,” Buffy blurted out, a statement of fact Spike didn’t need to acknowledge.  “I don’t even know why.”

Spike’s mouth fell open as he stared at her in disbelief.

“You do know.”  Buffy refused to meet his eyes.  “You do know, Buffy.  If you don’t want to admit it…”

“Say it,” she challenged, appearing very insecure despite her unwavering tone.  “Say it.”

“All right.  You needed to take out your frustration on me because you found out I was under some hex.”

“And?”

Spike smiled wryly.

“What was your excuse?”  Perfect.  Sense.  And Buffy…had always known it.  Just belligerently refused to acknowledge it.  “Ever figure out which one of us you hated more for it?” Spike asked, and his voice was kind, it held humour.

“I’m…”

“You apologise and I’ll put enough chlorine in that pool to turn your hair green.”

Buffy stopped to think, juggled what she wanted to say and tried to avoid an obvious apology.  Maybe if she could just…

“The Srumanteshtak wasn’t a part of that.  The taking out on.”

“I know.”

“Then why doesn’t Xander?”

“He hangs on to things, haven’t you noticed?  He’s naturally insecure so if there’s something he knows he’s right about he’s like a terrier with a rat.”

“But something so bad?  There are nice things, happy things he can hold onto.  We had happy things.”

“I think it was the very start of him leaving Sunnydale.  Leaving me, leaving me to them, and he’s crucified himself over that.  He has to know he was right.”

Buffy shook her head.

“I didn’t realise.”

“Realise what?”

“He's…complicated.”

“Oh, yeah, complicated.  That’s my honey.”  Buffy’s anxious face finally broke into a smile.  “What?”

“Your honey.  You and your honey.  You and Xander.  Spike and Xander.  Together.  Freakier than any Hellmouth freak-show.”

“Good, eh?” Spike grinned.

“Maybe.  Maybe it is.”

“I make him happy,” Spike assured her, serious now.

“I see that,” Buffy conceded.

“And I do my best to keep him safe.”

“I see that too.”

“Just…this time…”

“There was nothing you could do.  We’ve all been there,” Buffy said grimly, absolving him, and they exchanged a look that spoke of common understanding.

Then he smiled.  And she smiled back.

“So…gonna let me destroy your arteries?”

Buffy glanced over the items that Spike had liberated from the fridge.

“That’s unhealthy.  And that’s unhealthy.  And that’s unhealthy.  And that’s really unhealthy.”

“You’re in then.”

“Totally.”

Spike very deliberately placed potatoes, a knife, and a grater on the counter before Buffy.  She threw up a quick prayer for her manicure and got on with it while Spike went about his own preparations.  She thought about missing Xander, and what she could do to remedy that.  She thought about loving Xander and, glancing at the care Spike was taking over Xander’s food, thought about Spike loving Xander.  Xander loving Spike.  Xander Harris and William the Bloody.  Scooby and the Scourge.  Impossible.  It made her smile.  Then it made her chuckle.  Spike looked at her curiously.

“It would turn your hair green, too,” Buffy covered.

“Yeah,” Spike agreed, gaze deliberately flicking over the new green blouse he knew she’d paid a small fortune for.  He couldn’t resist it.  “But at least I look good in green.”

Repossession 58       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

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